Broken Blue Butterflies
by XxFallingFeathersxX
Summary: Inspired by and loosely based on the Shadowhunters series on Freeform: The meeting of Magnus and Alec! What happens when sparks fly, kittens interfere, and a few badly misplaced words and margaritas get in the way? Contains boy on boy Malec, rating may change in the future. Read and Review, bad summary is bad. *A/N: Formerly "Fateful Encounter"* 11/3/18: DISCONTINUED INDEFINITELY
1. Chapter 1 - Finally, A Meeting

**So hey guys! I'm sure you've all heard of / seen the new** ** _Shadowhunters_** **series on Freeform (In the US at least, i don't know about other countries) BUT if you haven't: Since** ** _City of Bones: The Movie_** **bombed so BADLY, they recast everyone and rescripted everything and made it into a TV show. (** **Frankly the plot and details vary so much from the book it's more like a TV drama and not the books but whatever),** **It's super good and I am in LOVE**

 **(It just kind of sickens me that they wont sign a contract with Netflix, and I don't get Freeform, but whatever.)**

 **SO. I watched a few episodes that I could find on YouTube (** **don't do it they're altered so much to avoid the copyright laws it's almost not worth it)** **and I got the inspiration to write this-Magnus and Alec's first real meeting-based on a phone call that Magnus made during Episode 5-Moo Shu To Go. So without further ado-another little story of mine!**

Magnus took another sip of his wine, standing in the window with one arm crossed over his chest. Chairman Meow, at his feet, let out a tiny mew and rubbed against his ankles.

"Doesn't it just sicken you, Meow?" he murmured to his cat. "We aren't even part of the Council, aren't even allowed at Clave meetings, and they think they can just _decide_ what we can and cannot do? It's enough to turn my delicate stomach."

Chairman looked up at him with big yellow eyes that reflected the light pouring in from the night city.

"And speak of the Clave." Magnus turned around and sauntered into his kitchen, waving one hand nonchalantly. The coffeepot turned itself on. "You know, Chairman, maybe we should hold a meeting of our own."

 _Mrrow?_

"Yes, pretty boy is a member of the Clave," the High Warlock continued to muse, mostly to himself. He swirled his wine in his glass as he picked up his alarmingly bedazzled phone. Drinking the last of it in one long gulp, Magnus set the cup in the sink and flicked through his phone. Upon finding the name he wanted, he hit the 'dial' button and tapped the speakerphone function. The soft ringing rang through the kitchen as the coffee brewed itself.

"An awfully small meeting it will be," he noted to the cat. "With just us and pretty boy."

* * *

Alec pulled his phone from his pocket as his ringer went off. Holding up a finger to Jace to excuse himself, he opened the call and brought it to his ear. "Hello?"

"Alexander." The voice like silk poured through the phone as easily as honey. "I don't believe we have been…properly acquainted yet. How about a drink?"

Alec took pause as the abruptness of the question. "I… A drink?"

"And a small meal, if you so choose."

Alec glanced up. Jace was rubbing a polishing cloth over the length of his staff, but Alec could tell he was watching from the corner of his eye.

"Uh—listen, I appreciate the offer, but—"

"Are you really about to refuse a dinner invitation? Really, Alexander, I don't have the time to extend this offer to every Shadowhunter that shows up at my parties." There was a pause. "I also have Clave matters to discuss."

 _Clave—?_ Alec groaned inwardly. "I…I can be over soon."

"Good. I'll see you then, Alexander."

The line disconnected.

"So you're leaving?" Jace asked, not taking his eyes off of his staff. "Running off with a warlock, huh?"

Alec didn't grace that with an answer. Instead he snatched up his quiver and threw it over his shoulder, brushing past Jace as he stalked out of the room.

* * *

It was a good hour before Magnus heard a knock at the door of his flat. He pressed the intercom button and asked, "Is this a child of the Nephilim?"

"Yes, Magnus."

Smiling at the slight edge in Alexander's tone, Magnus flicked his fingers and heard the door unlock. "It's open, pretty boy."

Down the hall, he heard the door swing open, a pause, and then a click as it locked.

"In the kitchen," Magnus called, waving his hand. Two tall mugs of coffee poured themselves, and Magnus's loaded itself with sugar and cream and a dash of whipped topping (with chocolate shavings, of course).

Booted footsteps came down the hallway until Alexander stood in the door, and he paused awkwardly.

"Coffee?" Magnus offered, waving a hand at the steaming up. Alexander eyed it warily.

"The first lesson a young Shadowhunter learns is not to accept a drink from an unknown or otherwise shifty Downworlder," he stated. "Even with the Accords, many Downworlders still hold a grudge."

"And I am unknown or otherwise shifty?" Magnus was faintly wounded. "I take complete offense to that statement, Alexander."

The Shadowhunter hesitated. "I didn't mean it like that—"

Magnus took up his cup and took a slow drink. "I know how you meant it, Shadowhunter."

Alexander was quiet. "You said…on the phone that you had Clave business to discuss?"

Magnus smiled into his coffee. "Ah, but my dear Alexander, I only said that to get you over here. Yes, I do have a problem with the Clave making all of my decisions for me, but it isn't something that can be resolved with one eighteen-year-old's input."

"You—? Wait, you lied to me just to make me come over?" Alexander demanded, shoulders tightening.

"Well, would you have come over otherwise?" Magnus picked up Alexander's coffee and held it out to him. Alexander's blue eyes searched Magnus's face with thinly veiled anger.

"Why did you want me over here so badly?" he snapped.

"The real question is, why did you trust the word of a—what was it?—'unknown or otherwise shifty Downworlder'?" Magnus countered.

Alexander gritted his teeth. "I'm leaving." He turned to go.

Magnus reached out and caught his arm. "If I recall, I was promised dinner."

"You were promised _nothing_ ," Alexander said, so loudly that Chairman hissed and ran to Magnus's feet, bristling protectively. He jerked his arm out of Magnus's grip. "I have better things to do than have dinner with a warlock."

"Like what?" Magnus said before he could stop himself. "Go home and fawn over your _parabatai_ that you're hopelessly in love with but have absolutely no chance, because he's _straight_?"

The silence that fell in the flat was thick and awkward enough that it could have suffocated Magnus. Alexander stood there staring at the floor.

"Alexander—," Magnus said softly. "I'm sorry."

"You're right." He fixed those piercing blue eyes on Magnus. "You were promised dinner. However, seeing as how I've suddenly lost my appetite, we're going to have to reschedule. Goodbye, Magnus Bane."

Without another word, Alexander took his leave. Magnus stood there watching him long after the door had closed.


	2. Chapter 2 - Dinner At Last

Three days later, Magnus was mixing a margarita while Chairman drank his cream when there was a knock at his door. With a sigh, Magnus pushed his glittery blue hair from his eyes and waved a hand as the door unlocked itself. "It's open!" he shouted.

Heavy footsteps came down the hall. Assuming it was his warlock apprentice Elios, Magnus picked up another margarita mixer and began shaking it. "Pomegranate or pineapple?" he asked. "And do you want it on the rocks?" Magnus's recipe book floated up, supported by magic, as his eyes scanned the pages. "I was thinking about making something Italian for dinner. Maybe shrimp and pasta? I know you aren't a huge seafood fan, Elios, so what do you want?"

The person behind him didn't respond.

"Come on, Elios," Magnus said, rolling his eyes as he poured the margarita into another tall glass frosted with salt. "Help me out here." He dropped two slices of lime and a tiny umbrella into the margarita and pushed it down the counter. "Take your margarita. It's a mix of pomegranate and pineapple."

"Last I checked, I can't drink."

Magnus froze. That wasn't Elios's voice. Turning around, Magnus saw his blue-eyed beauty leaning against the wall. Alexander had a pair of dark jeans and black combat boots, a black button-up shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows and the top button undone, and a thin chain around his neck. The black Marks around his throat and wrists stood out starkly against his skin.

The cookbook banged onto the counter.

He looked _good_.

"Alexander." Magnus leaned warily back against the counter and twisted his wine glass nervously around his fingers. "Can I help you, Shadowhunter?"

Magnus was still mentally beating himself up over the last time they had spoken, when Magnus had attacked him about Jace. He hadn't even gotten to know this child of the Angel—what right did he have to attack him about his love interests?

So what if the boy was gay? Everyone knew it. Everyone _had_ to! And so what if he was pretty? Lots of Shadowhunters were pretty. And so what if Magnus was just upset because he wanted to spend time with this pretty gay Shadowhunter? That didn't give him the right to call out this boy's biggest weakness and throw it in his face, when Magnus _had_ lied to him to get him into his flat.

 _This is why I don't deal with Shadowhunters. Always so sensitive._

Alexander raised his eyebrows so they almost disappeared into his mess of black hair. "If I recall correctly, I owe you dinner." He paused. "And don't call me Alexander. That's what my parents call me. My name's Alec."

"I see." Magnus drank, more to buy time than anything. "But why come back?"

Alexander—Alec—shrugged. "Leaving in a tantrum isn't polite. I felt bad."

Magnus blinked slowly, looking over his—no, not his— _the_ Shadowhunter in his flat. He would love to get to know him more. His quirks, his likes, his dislikes, his fears, the things that made him brave and the things that stopped him in his tracks. He wanted to explore that muscular, trained, toned body. He wanted to know every tick that happened inside that stunning brain. He wanted to memorize every nook and cranny of his Shadowhunter body.

"Magnus?"

Magnus was jerked out of his thought train by Alec's piercing look.

"I'm sorry, did you ask me something?" he asked, his face heating up. He hid behind his margarita as he poured the rest of it down his throat.

"Where are we going to go?" Alec repeated. "Or are you even hungry? Do you want to go out—I see you're cooking."

Magnus immediately thrust a hand out and snapped his fingers. The pan simmering on the stove disappeared.

* * *

Viscous raised his head as the smell and sound of frying shrimp spread through the kitchen. Glancing back, he saw a silver handled frying pan was on the stove, simmering softly. He looked around in confusion. None of the other werewolves were around—so where had it come from?

He shut the fridge and headed for the stove. It was full of shrimp, mixed vegetables, and what smelled like a rum simmer. His mouth began to water.

Smiling to himself, he turned the stove on and began stirring the scampi.

* * *

"No I'm not. Where do you want to go?" Magnus asked, putting down his empty margarita glass and picking up the second one.

After a slow pause, Alec shrugged, pulling awkwardly at his collar. The next button popped open, showing the top of the Mark in the middle of his chest. His collarbones stood out sharply in his skin.

Magnus choked a little on his alcohol.

"U-Um," he stammered, cursing himself. "What are you feeling? American? Italian? Thai?"

"Probably just American," Alec said, rubbing the back of his neck. For the first time, Magnus noticed that Alec had his quiver and bow strung over his shoulder. "How about that little diner down by the river?"

Magnus nodded. "Sounds good, Alexander."

"Alec," he mumbled.

"My apologies." Magnus tossed back the rest of his alcohol—more pomegranate than pineapple, he decided—and set the glass in the sink next to his first one. "Shall we go?"

Alec turned to go.

"Ah—you might want to leave your bow and quiver here," he suggested. "If we run into Downworlders they might not take too kindly to you carrying around angel weapons."

Alec hesitated, putting one hand on his bow. "I—don't like leaving my bow places."

"This flat is protected by magical wards and locks that, once set up, take very powerful magic to destroy. Your bow and quiver will be safe." Magnus's eyes glittered. "I can promise that."

The Shadowhunter didn't seem convinced.

"If anything happens to your bow," Magnus reasoned, "I'll have a new one commissioned for you."

Turning away, Alec pulled his bow off of his shoulder and looked at it. "It's not as simple as that," he murmured, but before Magnus could ask questions, he shrugged off the quiver and laid them both on the counter. Chairman, having finished with his cream and given up on taking a nap in the sink, padded curiously up to the weapon. Magnus scooped him up and carried him into the other room. A confused kitten meowed loudly as Magnus put him on the warlock's bed and shut the door.

Alec was texting when Magnus came back out.

"Are you ready?" he asked the Shadowhunter. Alec put his phone in his pocket and looked up.

"Whenever you are," he said. Magnus noted distractedly that he hadn't rebuttoned his shirt. Heat flushed his body.

"Let's go so we can catch a cab," Magnus said, brushing past the Shadowhunter. He got a whiff of his cologne and almost passed out— _Lilith, he smells good_.

"Are you going to open the door or do I have to?" Alec asked as Magnus hesitated at the door. _I don't want to go to dinner, I want to carry you into my bedroom and do filthy things to you._

"Magnus." Alec crossed his arms. "Is this a bad time? Because we can always reschedule."

Magnus mentally shook himself and he pressed his fingers to his forehead. "I just have a small headache," he murmured. He swung open the door. "After you, Nephilim."

Alec walked past him, throwing a queer sort of look back. "Thank you, Downworlder."

Magnus caught sight of himself in the full body mirror beside the door. He was still wearing what he had worn earlier that day for his clients—a white button up under a navy blue vest, a dangling necklace with a magic symbol on it, white jeans, black buckled platform boots, and several rings and bracelets. His blue and glittery hair was relatively messy for his taste, but his flashy makeup was perfect.

Once again, as happened almost every day for the past eight-hundred years, his attention was drawn to his eyes. Pupils slitted like a cat's, he had given up trying to hide it and instead flaunted his warlock mark with pride.

That wasn't saying, though, that he was comfortable with it. Of course, his warlock mark wasn't as conspicuous as others. Elios had two horns growing from his forehead. One of his friends Catarina had a dragon's tail. But he was often stared at by his clients, by his love interests, by Shadowhunters.

 _Alec didn't stare_ , he suddenly realized. For some reason, Magnus suddenly felt self-conscious in his clothing. His body suddenly itched to change his outfit.

"Magnus!" aforementioned Shadowhunter shouted.

 _Oh well, it's not my usual going-out-attire but it'll do for today._ Dropping a glittery wink and a cocky smile at himself in the mirror, trying to bring his own spirits back up, he darted after the Shadowhunter, halfway managing to push those thoughts from his mind.

 **Author's Note: Viscous and the werewolf pack I named in here are one of my OC packs. I've been thinking about publishing one of the stories I wrote about them on here (Because it was inspired by TMI and is technically fanfiction?) so I mean, let me know what you think? But Viscous is one of my OCs.**

 **Read and Review, Reviews make more chapters come faster!  
**


	3. Chapter 3 - Broken Soul, Solid Shell

The elevator ride to the first floor was semi-awkward. Alec didn't say much, and Magnus wasn't sure _what_ to say. He knew that Alec still had to be thinking about their devastating first conversation three days earlier.

So Magnus cleared his throat. "Alexan—Alec. I—"

"What do you do for a living, Magnus Bane?"

Magnus was startled into silence—something which happened quite rarely. "I'm sorry?"

"I'm sure the High Warlock of Brooklyn has better things to do than party all the time." Alec kept his eyes fixed firmly on the numbers ticking down in the elevator. "You must have a source of income. So tell me—what do you do?"

"I have clients," Magnus said slowly, casting a sideways look at the blue-eyed boy. "They need my magic, so they pay me to make potions and cast spells for them. Like the Clave does with Portals and things."

The elevator dinged, signaling their arrival at the ground floor. The doors slid open and Alec was the first one out. Sighing to himself, Magnus clenched one fist and then followed the boy. Alec was already halfway across the foyer.

"Hosting another client, Monsieur Bane?" the lobbyist asked. Magnus still had yet to figure out what kind of Downworlder said lobbyist was—he had the golden eyes of werewolves, but the pointed ears of fey.

"I'm not sure myself," Magnus sighed, hooking a hand around the back of his neck and shrugging with the other shoulder.

"That's unlike you, Monsieur." The fey-wolf smiled. "And a Shadowhunter at that."

"What can I say," Magnus murmured as Alec let the door shut behind him, already looking for a cab. "I've always had a thing for blue eyes."

* * *

By the time Magnus emerged onto the sidewalk, Alec had flagged down a cab and was climbing into the back. Magnus slid in after him.

"Riverfront Diner," Alec told the cabbie as the warlock slammed the door. The cab rumbled away. Alec sat back against the seat and looked out his window.

Magnus began humming softly to himself. Alec threw him a glance.

"Panic! At The Disco," he said immediately. "Death of a Bachelor."

Magnus raised one penciled eyebrow. "Someone's a music aficionado," he remarked.

"Because of Jace." Alec suddenly looked embarrassed. "He's the real music mind. I just happen to have picked up some of his knowledge."

"What about this then? Trivia." Magnus smiled. "C-sharp major, 1801, referred to as Number 14."

"Beethoven's _Moonlight Sonata._ "

"Classical fan too, I see," Magnus mused. "C-sharp major, translates to 'treasurer of the night'."

"Too easy. Jace's favorite piece: _Gaspard de la Nuit_ from Ravel."

"The only piece Beethoven never finished?"

"Tenth."

"What about the theorized 'curse of the ninth'?"

"The theory that a composer's ninth symphony will be his last." Alec, startlingly, laughed. "You're talking to the person who has read every book in the Institute's library— _twice_. I'm full of trivia."

"Yeah? Astound me, pretty boy," Magnus challenged.

"How about this? It's theorized that the Fair Folk originated from a class of demoted angels, who, in their spite, fled to Earth and bred with humans. The spawn, living with a foot in both worlds but outcasts in each, fled underground. Their blue skin—theoretically, of course—is a genetic mutation from lack of natural sunlight that just happened to stick around."

Magnus was impressed, to say the least. Alec looked smug for a moment before seeming to realize that he had been showing off and ducked his head, turning bright red.

"Not to bore you or anything," he muttered, immediately turning back into his cold, withdrawn self.

Magnus's immortal heart almost broke. _No, please,_ he wanted to beg, _you aren't boring me. Please, the way your face lights up when you talk about things you love—I want to see that again. I want that expression to never leave. How many insensitive Shadowhunters have broken your spirit—again and again and again—until this beautiful soul is forced to hide in such a cold outer shell?_

But he couldn't say that. Instead, he managed, "You don't bore me, Alexander."

Alec was quiet, and Magnus cursed silently as he realized his mistake. But when Alec spoke, it wasn't about his Freudian slip.

"Sure. All of this useless knowledge I have—who is it going to help? Not us during a fight. Certainly not a High Warlock." He turned away. "I'm sorry."

 _Stop apologizing!_ Magnus wanted to take the boy by the shoulders and shake him, shout at him that he really _is_ interested in what the Shadowhunter has to say, maybe even kiss him because _why is he so damn pretty_ , but he couldn't do that _either_.

"Knowledge doesn't always have to be useful," Magnus instead said softly. "For the record, I can tell you exactly how Princess Anastasia died, I know how the Tower of Pisa began to lean, and I know that Vlad the Impaler—known more commonly as Count Dracula—was only half vampire on his mother's side. That woman was cra- _zy_."

Alec smirked a little but didn't reply. Feeling that this conversation was at a dead end, Magnus sighed softly and turned out his own window, watching the fading sun color the city.

* * *

When the cabbie pulled to a stop at the diner, Alec handed him a few mundane bills and they climbed out. Magnus pulled open the door and bowed Alec inside dramatically. Blushing, Alec avoided his gaze and slipped through.

The diner was cozy, reminding Magnus of the 50's. _The nineteen fifties, of course_ , he corrected himself mentally. _The eighteen-fifties were one mess after another._

Alec was already heading across the diner and sliding into a two-seater booth. Magnus followed and sat opposite him.

"So it's my turn," Magnus said. Alec glanced up, confused. "You got to ask me a question, so now I'm asking you."

Alec shrugged. "Ask away, warlock."

"What are some of your interests?" Magnus was keen to get the boy out of his shell again, like he had been in the taxi. The way his face had lit up, the excitement in his voice and the passion in his eyes—Magnus wanted to see that look _forever_.

"Well." Alec paused when the waitress came by and asked for their drink orders.

"Pepsi for me," he said with a fake smile, and then looked at Magnus, who was flipping through the drink menu.

"No alcohol?" he said, faintly aghast. "I suppose I'll just have a milkshake then." He looked up at the waitress, meeting her bright silver eyes—she was obviously fey, but had a charm cast over her skin to hide the blue. "No chance I'll be able to pay you enough to slip some rum into it?"

She smiled. "Not one chance, warlock." And she walked away, shaking her head.

"It's a diner, Magnus," Alec hissed. "Why would they sell alcohol?"

Magnus shrugged. "Anyway—back to the topic at hand. Your interests."

"Reading." Alec's face turned faintly pink as the word burst out of him, and he scrambled to find something else because _goddammit that sounds boring as all hell._ "U-Uh—fighting. I like fighting. I like—my bow. Um…" His face became hotter and hotter the more he scrambled for words. Magnus's gold eyes were fixated on him the entire time, his expression unreadable.

 _Goddammit, Lightwood, get yourself together! He's going to think you're some kind of idiot!_ Alec propped his menu up and ducked his head, giving up. He dropped his forehead onto the table with a harsh _thud_.

"Oh, don't do that," Magnus soothed. "You'll end up with a bump on that pretty head of yours."

Alec snapped his head up and slammed his menu down. "Yeah? What are some of your interests then?"

"You in my room."

Alec swore he had never been so red before. " _What?"_

"The sun and the moon." Magnus raised his penciled eyebrows. "Astrology. Goodness, Alexander, from the way you're blushing, anyone would have thought I had said something naughty." He winked. "Get your mind out of the gutter."

Alec didn't know what to say. So he sat there, gaping and staring like a fish out of water. Thankfully, it was that moment that the fey waitress came back and set their drinks in front of them. Alec snatched a straw and took a few hasty gulps of his Pepsi to buy time. Magnus popped his cherry into his mouth and took a drink of his shake, his eyes never leaving the Shadowhunter who was staring intently at his carbonated drink.

"Listen, Alexander."

 _I suppose he's not going to stop calling me that,_ Alec thought moodily, swirling his ice around with his straw. _It's different from when Mother calls me that, though. Hers is always…accusing. With Magnus, it's more…_ intimate.

"Are you listening at all?"

Alec glanced up. "Yeah."

Magnus raised an eyebrow but didn't comment. Instead, he sat back and put his hands in his lap. "I want to apologize…for my behavior the last time we spoke."

 _"Like what? Go home and fawn over your_ parabatai _that you're hopelessly in love with but have absolutely no chance, because he's_ straight _?"_

That familiar lead ball settled in Alec's stomach. He stirred his Pepsi some more. "You're right," Alec mumbled under his breath.

"I'm…sorry?"

"I did love Jace." The confession almost made Alec wince. "But you can't love your brother—at least, not in the way that I did. And I tried to tell him once—and all he said was, 'We're brothers, of course I love you too'." Alec pushed his Pepsi away. "I still hate myself for it."

"Alexander—Alec." Magnus began to reach across the table, hesitated, and grabbed his shake instead. But he didn't make any move to take a drink.

"Do you know what the rest of my family—what the _Clave_ —would do to me if they found out…what I was?"

"What do you mean, _what you are?_ "

The uncharacteristic sharpness in Magnus's voice startled Alec. He looked up with a start. Magnus's cat eyes were glowing with a new fervor.

"You're gay, Alec," Magnus said bluntly. Alec had to stop himself from flinching back. "Don't say it like it's a disease, or something to be ashamed of. Plenty of guys like guys. There isn't anything to be embarrassed about."

Alec stared at his bubbly drink. "When you're a Shadowhunter, there is. If the Clave found out—they'd strip me of my Marks—and wipe my memory—and send me to live as a _mundane!_ " Alec found his voice rising and struggled to control it. "That's my worst nightmare."

This time, Magnus could have sworn his immortal heart stopped for a few seconds. Alec's blue eyes were wet and his black hair began to fall to cover his bowed head. Magnus wanted nothing more than to reach out, take Alec's hand, kiss it and kiss _him_ and just whisper that _it'll be alright, I'll be your rock, I'll be here, I love you Alec, we can figure it out together, you don't have to be scared._

But instead, Magnus swallowed hard and turned his attention back to the laminated menu in front of him.

 **MAGNUS Y U NO COMFORT**

 **Haha, I bet you guys hate me :D;;**

 **I kinda hate myself but it's okay**

 **Review please!**


	4. Chapter 4 - Missed Me

**As was pointed out to me from Chapter Two, I mistakenly used the name Catarina when speaking about other warlocks' marks. I intended to use another original name, kind of forgetting about Catarina Loss? So. Just...imagine it's a different Catarina! XD**

 **Now. Next Chapter!**

Upon arriving back at Magnus's flat after a relatively silent cab ride, the elevator up to the sixth floor was shared in quiet. Magnus was itching for a vodka.

When the doors slid open, both men stepped for it at once and bumped into each other. Magnus's body went hot all over again as he caught another whiff of Alec's cologne. Clearing his throat, he took a hasty step back and gestured Alec out, staring at the wall over his head.

"No, Magnus. You first." Alec raised his eyebrows. "You've been letting me out first all night."

"Because it's the gentlemanly thing to do," Magnus retorted, then flinched for being so short. "I'm sorry—I'm just…tired."

"Is your headache worse?" Alec asked, his blue eyes searching Magnus's face.

 _My headache? –Oh!_ "A little," Magnus fibbed, rubbing his temple. The elevator doors slid shut again.

"I can fix you some tea when we get back to your flat. Jace taught me this quite nice recipe for stress-relieving tea."

"That would be appreciated." The smell of Alec's cologne was filling the elevator—or maybe he was imagining it. Either way, his head was starting to spin. "I—I need to sit down."

Alec reached around Magnus and pressed the 'door open' button. His warm breath tickled Magnus's neck and the warlock involuntarily shivered. Alec pulled back.

"Your face is bright red," he said, his brow furrowing. "Come on—let's get you home."

Magnus allowed Alec to lead him back to his own flat, and it wasn't until he was in front of his door that he realized something very important.

" _Damn it!_ " he shouted, staring at the door in shock.

"What?" Alec instinctively went for the seraph blade at his hip, assuming a defensive position. "What is it, Magnus?"

"I don't have my key," Magnus muttered. Alec stood very still for a moment before letting out an amused snort.

" _That's_ all?" Alec flipped a stele from his belt. "I'll just use a rune."

The High Warlock was dubious, but watched the Shadowhunter trace the Angel instrument skillfully over the door. To his complete and utter shock, it fell open.

"But—my wards!" he stammered.

Alec smiled and flipped the stele around his hand.

"Angel runes, my dear warlock." Alec pushed the door open and nodded for Magnus to go in first. "Plus, I don't know if you know how wards work," he continued as Magnus stepped in, grateful for his exotically decorated flat and plush Persian couch, "but when their caster is weak, the strength of the wards weaken as well."

"I know how my own magic works, Upworlder," Magnus grumbled in slight annoyance. Alec ignored it.

"Go lay down," he said, "and I'll brew some tea."

Muttering a grudging thanks, Magnus stalked into his living room and sat down heavily on the couch. Chairman, dozing on the table, jumped up and sprang onto his lap with a loud meow. He made a low purring sound in his throat and let Chairman lick his nose.

It wasn't long before Alec entered the living room with a steaming mug in his hands. Magnus took it, casting a look up at Alec. His blue eyes were unreadable. The ceramic mug was hot to the touch, but the High Warlock barely noticed it. He brought it up and took a sniff, tearing his gaze away from the pretty boy leaning over him.

"What's in this?" Magnus asked in surprise, forgetting to be polite.

"Blueberry, elderflower, and ginger." Alec dropped down into a chair on the other side of the room. "It's a stamina tea we drink at the Institute."

The cat-eyed man took a tentative sip. The flavor exploded in his mouth, left a hot trail all the way down, and parted ways with a soothing aftertaste. It was _heavenly._

"Alexander, this is delicious," he exalted as Chairman rose up onto his hind legs, peering at the cup. The kitten tentatively stuck a paw in the tea and licked it off curiously. "Who knew Shadowhunters had such a knack for tea?"

Alec's face turned red and he turned away. Chairman, after Magnus shooed him away, made a beeline for Alec, sauntering across the table and taking a flying leap into his lap. Alec jumped in surprise and, holding his arms up, stared at the kitten in his lap. Chairman meowed softly a couple times, turned a few circles, and dropped down in Alec's lap. Tentatively, Alec reached down and petted the kitten's head. Chairman arched into the touch, purring.

"Have you never seen a cat before?" Magnus asked, somewhat concerned by his response.

"Ah—I have, it's just—that Church hates all of us," Alec explained. "He would never do this."

"Well, Church is—pardon my French—a little asshole, so it's a given," Magnus replied with a smile. Alec looked up.

"How do you know Church?" Alec asked. "He's never left the Institute."

Magnus was suddenly reminded of a pale boy with a violin, another broken blue-eyed soul, a warlock without a mark, and the same grumpy old cat—and he couldn't help but smile again.

"He sounds like another cat I—I _used_ to know," Magnus lied airily, waving one hand in a dismissive fashion. Alec looked dubious but didn't say anything else.

Magnus lifted the mug to take another drink and was startled to see he had already run out. "Goodness, this tea went fast, did it not?" he commented. Alec smiled.

"I'm glad you like it," he said. "Jace taught me the recipe."

 _There is it again—that golden-haired 'Angel'. Jace, Jace, Jace._ At the same time one part of his brain was snarling mockingly, another part soothed; _they_ are _parabatai, after all. It's only natural that they'd spend so much time together._

 _That doesn't make it okay for him to talk about him like—like_ that! Magnus's hormonal thought train cried desperately. Then he shushed himself. _What are you talking about? You're not even with him. What right do you have to be angry about the way he talks about Jace?_

This mental dispute went back and forth until Magnus suddenly rose to his feet. Alec looked to him with a start.

"Magnus?" he asked. "What's wrong?"

"I—need to use the restroom," the High Warlock of Brooklyn said smoothly, and without another word swept from the living room. Once in his bathroom, he banged the door shut and leaned against the wall.

"Can I just kiss him already?" he groaned out loud. Glancing in the mirror, he was abashed to see that his eyeliner was slightly smudged, his hair was a complete _mess_ , and his shirt was so rumpled he was almost tempted to wonder when it had last been washed.

"I can't kiss him like this!" he cried, maybe a little louder than he intended.

* * *

Alec was still cradling Chairman, who was batting at his fingers, when a loud cry came from the bathroom.

 _"I can't kiss him like this!"_

Alec's entire body flushed with heat. Magnus wanted to kiss him? Nervous now, Alec picked up Chairman and stood up, putting the cat back into the chair. What was he going to do if Magnus kissed him? What was he _supposed to do?_ He had never kissed anyone before!

Alec began pacing. He always did that when he was nervous. He ran his hands through his already messy hair, ruffling it, pulling it, and biting his nails.

 _How am I supposed to react if he kisses me? What am I supposed to do? How does one kiss?_

He wasn't sure how long he paced in the hallway, panicking slightly, but finally Magnus came out of the bathroom. His hair was combed back into his usual quiff and his eyes shone.

"My apologies," he murmured softly, obviously unknowing that Alec had overheard his outburst. He crossed his arms and leaned against the wall. His lightly toned muscles stretched his top. Alec's body flushed.

"It's getting late," he stammered, and then wondered who had said those words. His hands went behind his back and started tightening around each other. "I—I should probably get going soon."

Magnus tried very hard not to let his face fall. _Oh._ "Ah—I'll see you out," he mumbled. Pushing himself off the wall, he gestured Alec toward the door. The Shadowhunter turned and headed quickly for the heavy wood door. Magnus had to fight to not let himself be hurt. He swallowed hard and shoved his hands in his pockets. When they reached the door, they both went for the knob at the same time. Their hands overlapped.

It was like a live wire had wrapped around Alec's thin fingers. It sent shocks down his arm and through his whole body, and making his entire body shiver. He jerked back, and this time Magnus couldn't hide the pain on his face. Alec immediately felt bad.

"Magnus," he began weakly as the warlock swung the door open, staring at a spot over Alec's head.

"You said you needed to go," the High Warlock muttered.

Alec began to reach out, but his hand instead wrapped itself around the back of his neck. "I-I…"

Magnus's green-gold cat eyes found their way back to Alec's deep blue ones. "Alexander."

"Magnus," Alec breathed again. He could get lost in those beautiful gold orbs, the sharp planes of his cheekbones, that angular jawline, the soft curves of his lips…

Alec didn't realize he was leaning in until his eyes slid shut and he took a step forward. He snapped back to reality when he felt Magnus's soft breath on his lips, smelling of blueberry and ginger.

His nerves took over an instant before their lips met. Alec drew a sharp breath and pulled back, stumbling into the wall behind him. Magnus's lips parted slightly, his eyes widening.

"Alexander, what's wrong?"

"I need to leave." Alec felt like he was going to vomit as he ran past Magnus out the door and into the hallway, throwing himself against the cold metal doors of the elevator. He punched the button and the doors slid open, letting him fall in. Once the doors shut behind him, he curled up against the wall and dropped his forehead onto his knees.

"What did I just do?" he moaned, feeling queasy.

 **Reviews are Love!**


	5. Chapter 5 - Mistakes

**Ohmygosh I'm so sorry this is so late! If you all have stood by me through all of my awfully long hiatuses then thank you so so so much! Your continued support means the world!**

 **I'm going to be trying to update more and more often, I promise!**

 **PLEASE Review! Thanks, guys!**

It was two weeks after their disastrous—is that the word Magnus should even use? —first date. _Was it even a date?_ he mulled silently, sitting at his barstool in his kitchen and staring at his margarita. Chairman was chewing on his mouse with the bell inside on the carpet behind him. Alexander hadn't tried to call, message, or come back. He was beginning to lose hope.

Chairman rolled over, growling ferociously as he gnawed on the head of the mouse, battering it with his back paws.

With a sigh, Magnus magically pulled the bottle of wine closer to him, along with an empty wineglass. Should he try to call Alexander?

"What should I do, Meow?" he asked his cat half-heartedly.

The jingling of that stupid mouse was all the answer Magnus got.

"Thanks, pal," he sighed. "Your advice always helps." He dropped his chin into his palm, elbow on the counter as he stared at the digital clock over the stove. Outside, the rain sang against the windowpane.

His gaze drifted to the bow and quiver that Alec had left on his counter. Both were covered in angel runes, and Magnus could not touch them. They had remained, untouched, exactly where the Shadowhunter had left them two weeks ago. Maybe Magnus would use that as an excuse if he called.

After three minutes, Magnus sat up. _The High Warlock of Brooklyn does not mope_ , he told himself sternly. _The High Warlock of fucking Brooklyn picks up the phone and calls the stupid Shadowhunter that ran out on him. Not because he is desperate, but because he is_ worth it _, dammit!_

So, before he could change his own mind, Magnus picked up his phone, resolutely dialed the number, and listened as the ringing began.

*88888888888888888888888*

It was two weeks after their disastrous first date. _Yes_ , Alec mused darkly as he poured over the book in his hands, _disastrous is exactly the word I would use for the way I ran out on him._

He hadn't noticed when he had left, but he had left his bow and quiver there. He didn't dare return to get it, and had been using another bow from the weapons room. He was desperate for his custom bow, and each day without it made his anxiety worse, but he couldn't go back. Not without being reinvited.

For two weeks, Alec had moped about, part of him upset that Magnus didn't try to contact him, and part of him trying to decide if he should call first. Two weeks found him sitting on his bed now, immersed in his book, his phone sitting by his hip, one foot bouncing against the black comforter.

His ringtone cut through the silence like a knife, startling him. Alec jerked to look down at his phone, and his heart quickened as he saw the name flashing on the screen: _Magnus Bane._

He reached for it quickly, then caught himself. What if Magnus was calling to say he didn't want to see him anymore? Alec didn't know if his heart could take it. His finger hovered. But what if Magnus was calling to apologize? Apologize for what, though? Alec was the one that had to apologize, _Magnus_ was the one that _deserved_ the apology.

And the biggest question—did Alec want to talk to Magnus?

His indecision cost too much time; the screen went black and then relit, this time flashing the 'missed call' symbol.

"Shit," Alec cursed, scooping his phone up and reaching for the redial button. But his unfortunate timing fell in line with Magnus dialing again. This time, instead of hitting 'redial', he hit 'reject call'.

"No!" Alec shouted, lurching forward to his knees, his book flying. He scrambled for the book at the same time, and he dropped his phone. It hit his nightstand, bounced off the carpet, and disappeared under his bed.

*88888888888888888888888888*

Magnus pulled away, confused and more than a little hurt, when his call went to voicemail again, this time with barely a ring. _So Alec doesn't want to talk._

 _Of course he doesn't_ , a voice in his head mocked. _After you tried to throw yourself onto him? I wouldn't want to talk to you either._

Magnus's phone clattered to the counter. He reached for something—either the wine or his margarita—and found both just out of reach. With a sigh, he used his magic to bring the wine bottle into his hands. He found his gaze drawn, as it had been countless times in his long life, to his blue magic. The sparks had haunted him, dreaming and waking, for uncountable hours in his lifetime.

Those sparks, that magic—that's what caused… _everything._

 _All he could see was the rope._

 _All he could taste was the water._

 _All he could hear was the screaming._

 _All he could smell was the awful burning—the awful, awful fire._

 _And then everything changed._

 _There was the lying. The sneaking out. The dark magic. The summoning and the mistakes and the drinking—God, the_ drinking _, the_ mistakes _, all of his_ mistakes _—_

"No!" Magnus shouted, slamming a hand onto the counter. He grabbed the margarita glass and threw it at the window. It shattered and soaked the curtain. With a shout, he snatched up the wine bottle and flung it across the room. It shattered, sending a fine mist of wine around the room. Chairman hissed and ran under the couch, the mouse abandoned.

"What did I do to deserve this?" Magnus roared to nothing. He kicked the barstool over and snatched the wineglass up. His stiff grip, however, shattered the glass in his hand. He gasped, sucked back to the present by the sudden pain in his palm. His breathing was coming fast and loud in the empty flat. He stared at his palm, unseeing at first. The blood welled from the jagged cuts and spilled over his palm and down his fingers.

He had forgotten all of the anger he had shoved down, for years and years. He covered the brokenness inside with makeup, glitter, parties, lying, drinking…

Hesitating, Magnus raised the fingers of his other hand and used his magic to seal the cuts. The wounds stuck together, faded to pink, then white, then nothing. The blood remained.

He had forgotten another blue soul. Another boy, broken and shattered by a curse that wasn't his, covering his pain with anger and sass and jokes. Delicate as a butterfly with an icy exterior, he pushed everyone away until he was alone.

Magnus had thought he had learned from William's mistake.

All butterflies are delicate but brave, until they're stepped on one too many times. One can only have its wings broken so many times before it's unable to fly. Magnus clenched his fist. All broken blue butterflies are delicate. And Magnus had forgotten that with himself—no, he wasn't the only thing that mattered anymore. He had hurt Alexander—he had gotten lost in the depths of those brilliant sapphire orbs.

"I'm sorry," Magnus choked, sinking to his knees, shaking. His pulse throbbed through his body, physically shaking him further. "Oh, Alexander, I'm so sorry...I'm so..."

*8888888888888888888888888888888888888*

Alec listened to the ringing in his ear, staring at the suspiciously large spider under his bed. It rang four times and Alec got in a good jab with his pencil before there was an answer.

"Hello?"

"Magnus!" Alec exclaimed breathlessly. Taking advantage of his distraction, the spider scuttled to safety. "I'm sorry I missed your call. It's a long story."

There was a long quiet.

"Oh."

 _Oh? That's all?_ Alec's heart raced and he dragged himself out from under his bed, sitting back on his heels. "Listen, I wanted to…apologize," Alec began awkwardly. "For…running out on you."

"That's okay."

Another pause.

Alec opened his mouth to say something else but Magnus beat him to it.

"I need to apologize as well. I shouldn't have been so forward. I understand if…you…are done with me."

A shocked sound burst from Alec. "No!" he cried. "I'm not done with you! I—I wanted to ask if…you would…"

"Give me another chance," Magnus said, taking the words from Alec but speaking them in another sort of tone. "P…Please, Alexander."

"Of—course I will," Alec stammered out. "I should have called sooner."

"That's my fault, as well." Magnus cleared his throat. "I…"

They both trailed off. It was a long silence this time.

"Would you like to come over for a drink?" Magnus asked softly.

"I can't drink," Alec replied. "Remember?"

"You also said you can't accept drinks from unknown or otherwise shifty Downworlders," Magnus echoed in a hollow tone, no trace of his usual chipper demeanor in his voice.

"Are you…unknown or otherwise shifty?" Alec ventured to tease.

There was a soft sound, like a half-laughing exhalation. "You left your bow and arrows here," Magnus murmured. His tone was softer.

"Yeah, I-I know. I would have…come back for it," Alec replied weakly, feeling shame burn in the pit of his stomach. "But I didn't want to just…show up uninvited."

"You don't have to wait for an invitation to come to my flat, Alexander."

For some reason, that raised the hairs on the back of Alec's neck like wires.

"Don't call me Alexander," he whispered instead. "My name is Alec."

"A moot point, it seems, if you ask me," Magnus replied. "I believe a man shouldn't be called by a childhood nickname forever."

Alec stared down at his callused hand, the one not holding his phone, resting on his knees. "I'm not a man," he replied quietly before he could think. "I'm barely eighteen."

 _All Shadowhunters have to grow up at some point,_ the voice from his memory growled in Alec's head. _You are no exception, Alexander Gideon. You cannot run around like a child forever._

"Alec?"

He jumped a little. "S-Sorry, what?" he asked, feeling his face burn as he realized Magnus had begun speaking.

"You got awfully quiet," Magnus said. "Are you okay?"

"No—yeah," he stammered. "I'm—" He swallowed quickly. "I'm okay."

The silence that dragged out here was deafening.

"Alexander…" Magnus heaved a sigh eventually. Alec's heart quickened. Something about the way Magnus said his name was enough to make him weak. There was something intimate about it, like it was a secret only the two of them knew.

"What would you say to giving it another shot?" the warlock suggested. Alec had never heard him so quiet, almost _defeated_ , _pleading_. "One more shot," he continued, "and if you aren't comfortable, that's it. You can go on with your business and I can go on with mine and—that'll be it."

For some reason, the thought of that made Alec freeze. He didn't mean it, did he? _Why am I shaking? Why does the idea of never seeing him again scare me so badly?_

"When do you want me to come back over?" Alec burst out, suddenly short of breath, as if he had little time left. "Just—give me a date, and I'll be there."

"Uh—Oh," Magnus managed, obviously startled. "Uh—tomorrow? Noon. We can do lunch."

Alec found himself nodding. "Tomorrow at noon. I'll be there."

"Good." His voice suddenly became crisp. "I have—I need to clean up a little, so I'll let you go. The door will be unlocked so—when you—you can just—come in." He coughed and there was a shuffling sound, and then a faint bell ringing. A fainter meow sounded. "I'll see you then, Alexander."

"See you, Magnus," Alec said softly, and kept the phone to his cheek until he heard the beep of the call disconnecting. His heart was fluttering. Oh Angel, he was nervous. He hoped he would be able to keep his composure, unlike two weeks ago.

 _Oh, by the Angel._ Alec set his phone down and rubbed his hands through his hair. He let himself lean backwards until he was laying on his back on his carpet, staring up at his white ceiling.

Why had Magnus's words of "that'll be it" send him into such a frenzied panic? Did he…did he care for the warlock?

Of course he did, he wouldn't have agreed to dinner once, twice, three times if he hadn't.

Maybe Alec was just underestimating how much he cared for Magnus Bane.

 **This is really five pages in Word?**

 **Seems shorter than that.**


	6. Chapter 6 - Dancing!

**Okay so you guys have every right to be upset at me, every time I update I promise to update more, I really do, and I mean it every time, and I'm sure you guys are sick of hearing it, so I just wont say anything this time XD But here's a chapter? :D and the next one is about halfway done so it should be up soon too!**

* * *

The next day, Alec was up at five a.m. like he was every morning. He laid there, tucked under his fluffy black comforter, staring up at his ceiling. He had seven hours before he met Magnus.

 _I just woke up, why is he the first thing I thought about?_ Alec wondered, rolling over and pulling the blanket up around his shoulders. Then another thought occurred to him. _When did it become Magnus instead of Jace?_

He couldn't count the number of times he had woken up and thought about Jace. He had loved Jace, he wouldn't admit it to anyone but himself—and even to himself, he often lied. He often had nightmares about what would happen if the Clave found out his sexuality, the fact that he was in love with his _parabatai_ , the shameful thoughts that stopped him in his tracks. That was part of the reason he grew out his hair and wore too-big sweaters and hid behind books. Because maybe if he hid, no one would be able to see how broken he felt inside.

Alec curled up in anticipation of the pain in his chest, but it never came.

That startled him. When did the pain stop? Alec cast his thoughts back, staring at his digital clock. It must have been…when he met Magnus.

 _Did Magnus really affect me that much from the very beginning?_

 _8888888888888888888888888888888888888888888_

Magnus woke up at nine o'clock (give or take a few minutes) and laid there sleepily until Chairman came in and licked his face, forcing him to rise. He sat up and stretched, goosebumps rising on his arms when the cool air of his loft brushed his bare skin.

Kicking his feet out of bed, dressed in just a pair of bright blue boxer shorts, Magnus bent over and touched his toes, exhaling until his entire body relaxed and his back popped in several places. Straightening, he arched to one side, then the other, rolled his shoulders, and brought each knee to his chest in its own turn.

Sufficiently stretched, he yawned, rubbed his head, and headed into the bathroom. He was already craving a couple shots of vodka and coffee.

Magnus had to physically stop and shake his head. He knew all of his drinking was bad, and he went through this every morning. He added alcohol to things like other people added salt and sugar to things. He linked his hands behind his back and bent backwards, pushing his shoulders back and exhaling.

 _I'm going to see Alexander today,_ he remembered. _Maybe I can survive without the vodka._

"But if I don't have the alcohol with my coffee," he told his cat, who was pawing at the bedroom door and meowing, "then I'll just have a migraine later."

Chairman looked at him, as if to say "But you're seeing Alexander today."

Either that, or "Shut the fuck up and just _feed me_ already, I don't care about your alcoholic problems."

"I'm not an alcoholic!" Magnus exclaimed aloud, opening the door. Chairman shot out like a bullet. "I'm not!" he shouted after his cat. Then he headed back for the bathroom, rubbing the back of his neck, and looked at himself in the mirror.

His hair was tangled and messy, and still had remnants of last night's gel in it. Magnus sighed through his nose and rubbed one eye. Traces of mascara came off onto his cheek. Frowning, he snapped his fingers and the shower started itself.

After a quick, hot shower that turned his skin red, Magnus towel-dried and headed to the kitchen to make coffee, sans vodka. Magicking a can of wet cat food into Chairman's bowl, Magnus watched the digital clock as his mundane coffee maker brewed his mountain roast coffee. When it was ten-thirty, Magnus had downed two cups and wandered back into his bedroom. He took the next hour and a half doing his makeup—foundation first, then all his dark cat-eye makeup, and then his hair. He had barely finished getting dressed when there was a knock on the door to his apartment.

"At least he's punctual," Magnus said cheerily to Chairman, wandering back into the living room and flicking his fingers at the door. It swung open and exposed Alec standing there with one fist raised to knock again. Alec had a pair of dark battlegear jeans and a black sweater on, his hair brushed messily around his angular face.

Magnus's heart jumped into his throat.

"Alexander," he said, extending his arms, grinning to hide his nervousness. "Welcome back to my humble abode. You'll have to forgive the décor—I haven't had a chance to change anything."

He cleared his throat awkwardly and murmured, "S'okay." He bent down and scooped up Chairman as the kitten pawed at his jeans.

"What would you like to do today?" Magnus asked.

"You offered lunch," Alec said, raising his eyes finally to meet Magnus's. "Are you hungry?"

Magnus met Alec's eyes steadily. "Well, we can do that, and then tonight we can go dancing."

Alec's face turned white. "Dancing?"

It was an idea that had just appeared in Magnus's head when he had focused on the dark blue of Alec's eyes. It reminded him of the pulsating lights that flashed on the disco balls in the nightclub Magnus frequented, the Underworld. It was a Downworld nightclub, and the owner was a warlock friend of Magnus's. He had seen Shadowhunters in there before, albeit outnumbered by Downworlders, but the warlock owner didn't tolerate any sort of infighting or hositility.

"It's a nice place," Magnus replied with a nod. "I know the owner and he doesn't let riffraff inside."

"That not—the _issue_ ," Alec stammered, going from white to red. "I've never—I can't—I'm not a good—I can't _dance_ , Magnus." His voice dropped to barely a whisper.

"Oh, you don't have to be able to dance," Magnus said in a sultry sort of voice, sauntering up to Alec and reaching out to take his hand. Alec nervously took a half a step back. Chairman jumped down as Magnus gripped both Alec's hands and spun him around. The Shadowhunter yelped, stumbling a little, as Magnus pulled him into a swing step. Despite himself, Alec let a nervous laugh fall from his throat.

Magnus laughed heartily and pulled Alec's arm above his head, spinning him and then pulling him back into a low dip. Alec's foot slipped and he gasped, clutching onto Magnus's shoulder. The warlock smiled down at him. Gravity pulled his long black hair away from his face. His cheeks were bright red.

"Trust me," Magnus murmured. "I won't let you fall."

Alec's nerves took over and he pushed himself up, sliding out of Magnus's arms. "I don't dance," he muttered, hugging his arms around himself. "I'd embarrass you."

"Oh, you couldn't embarrass me," Magnus reassured him with a cocked eyebrow. "Trust me, I took a fey to a nightclub once and he got into a barfight with a vampire. You've never seen embarrassment until you've watched a drunk fey challenge a drunker vampire to a wrestling match on the bar."

"Who won?" Alec asked, obviously confused.

"Well, I'm not quite sure," Magnus reminisced, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. "After the werewolf joined in the owner kicked us all out. I think someone got it on video though."

Alec laughed and then covered his mouth, blushing again.

"Why are you so nervous?" Magnus asked without thinking. Alec dropped his gaze and sat down stiffly on the arm of the couch. Chairman carried his little mouse over and dropped it in front of Alec. The Shadowhunter looked down at it blankly.

"Kick it," Magnus suggested. Alec's brow knit. Magnus nodded and mimed kicking. Alec swung one of his booted feet and knocked the mouse a few feet away. Chairman leapt after it and rolled down the hallway. The jingling of the bell disappeared.

"I'm not perfect," Alec said suddenly.

"Well, as much as I beg to differ," Magnus said without missing a beat, "that seemed somewhat unprompted."

"You asked why I'm so nervous." Alec rapped his fingers together. "Because I'm not perfect like Jace, or like Izzy. Jace is so ruggedly handsome and such a good fighter, Izzy's so charming and she's never missed a shot with her whip—I'm lucky to make an arrow connect. I just get so scared I'm going to let everyone down. And that throws off my aim, and…" His words had begun to speed up so fast they all sort of mixed together.

"I've never been the best at anything," he continued, slower. "I'm supposed to be the head of the family in Dad's absence, which is quite often anymore. I'm supposed to lead and be an adult—and it's hard to separate that from—from whatever personal life I'm supposed to have."

Magnus's heartstrings rang. He was so pretty and so delicate on the outside, but so icy and cold and withdrawn. The warlock knew how that felt—that the shattered pieces inside could only be frozen back together by keeping it all smothered inside until it created the façade of being whole.

Magnus sat down on the arm of the couch beside him. Alec stiffened at their closeness. "Well, maybe this will be good for you then," he said with a smile. "It'll be a good chance for you to relax. Let loose. Cut a rug, if you will." He dropped a glittery wink.

Alec sighed, smiling shyly at Magnus. "You're dead-set on this, aren't you?" he asked quietly.

"More dead-set than I've ever been on really anything else," Magnus said, rolling easily back to his feet. "One more condition!" he added suddenly, holding up a finger. "I get to dress you."

" _No!_ " Alec cried loudly, jumping up and taking a couple quick steps backwards. "I've seen how you dress, Magnus, and I'm pretty sure that A—none of your clothes could fit me, and B—half those colors wouldn't look good on me!"

"Come on, Alexander," Magnus teased, holding out his fingers and flicking blue sparks threateningly. "Just a little glitter and some skin-tight clothes!"

"No!" Alec shouted, ducking under Magnus's arm and racing past him. Spinning, the warlock grinned as the Shadowhunter disappeared around the corner.

"Playing hard-to-get," Magnus purred, eyes flashing. "I like it."

He raced after the dark-haired boy, his socked feet making barely any noise on the hardwood floor. He had a feeling they would be eating in today.


	7. Chapter 7 - Just The Alcohol, That's All

**Since I'm on a roll I decided to make this chapter extra long! Almost 4,000 words!**

 **...**

 **Well, I didn't decide that. It kind of happened. I really intended for them to make it to the club in this chapter (spoiler alert: they don't) BUT I LIKE THE WAY THIS ENDED MUCH BETTER**

 **Insert Disclaimer Here!**

* * *

After an impromptu lunch of chicken fettuccine alfredo that Magnus 'made' (magicked up) he managed to get Alec sitting on a bar stool in front of Magnus's floor-length mirror, his tan hands gripping the sides of the seat and his back rigidly straight. The wine he had with lunch was stirring in his stomach and he had _known_ it wasn't a good idea for him to drink but he had anyway. The alcohol was why he had agreed to this. _Only the alcohol._ Not that he liked Magnus and wanted to see him smile. _Only. The. Alcohol._

"This is only our second trip out and I'm letting you put makeup on me, _why?_ " Alec muttered anyway.

"Our second _what?_ " Magnus called coyly from the bathroom.

"Our second—outing," Alec tried again, his face burning. _Only the alcohol._

"Say the word _date_ , Alexander," he sang.

"Is it a date?" Alec asked nervously, his stomach flipping for a reason that had nothing to do with the wine, and he couldn't even deny that to himself. Magnus came out with his margarita glass in one hand and a stack of makeup in the other.

"Well, this is what most couples do on dates," Magnus said. Alec raised his eyebrows.

"Do each other's makeup and go dancing in a club full of vampires and werewolves?" Alec clarified. "I have to restate, Magnus, I don't think we're other couples—I—I mean, we aren't even a couple!" he caught himself, jerking his eyes away and staring at his lap. The Marks at his throat stood out starkly on his flushed skin, peeking out from the neckline of his worn sweater.

"Oh, are we not?" Magnus teased lightly. He pulled out a bottle of foundation and shook it, holding it up to Alec's cheek to compare the color. Alec leaned slowly away.

"Is it too late to run?" he asked hopefully, purposely evading Magnus's question.

"Ah, far," Magnus confirmed with a grin, taking a long drink of his margarita. One of the pomegranate seeds that was floating in the drink followed his mouthful, and he crunched into it thoughtfully as he examined his stack of makeup. He had gotten Alec to agree to makeup only with a lot of coaxing (and a few more than a couple of glasses of wine) and the promise that he would use as little glitter as possible. With a thoughtful sigh, he sat down the margarita glass—there was barely a drink left—and picked up a palette. Opening it, he picked up a brush and touched it to a couple different colors, blending them together on the back of his hand.

Turning back to the Shadowhunter with what he thought to be a satisfactory shade of silver, he was startled to find his margarita glass empty and Alec licking a bit of the salt off of the rim. He went red when he saw Magnus looking and almost dropped the glass.

"Pomegranate is my favorite fruit!" he defended himself hastily, setting the glass with a little more force than necessary back onto the table in front of him. "Well—pomegranate and mango. And apples. I do like apples. What's your favorite fruit?"

Magnus could see spots on Alec's cheekbones that weren't from his blush—and he began to understand what Alec meant when he said he couldn't drink.

"Alexander, have you ever drank before?" Magnus asked. Alec looked up, his blue eyes wide and innocent.

"Oh, only once," he said absently, turning his gaze back to the mirror and examining his face. "In Idris, at a party someone was holding. The Branwells, maybe? Father wanted to go, so we all went—Izzy and Jace and I, Max was little and so Mom stayed home with him—and I was so _bored_ , you know how those adult parties get"—he laughed without holding back; it caught Magnus off-guard—"of course, I think I was only fifteen then, so of course I wasn't going to make any good decisions—oh, is that for me?" he asked, his attention drawn to the brush in Magnus's hand that he had put foundation on.

"Oh, keep talking, cutie," Magnus said, turning Alec's chin upwards to angle his face more toward the light, thoroughly enjoying how loose Alec was when he was, as Magnus referred to it, "white-girl-wasted". "I can work while you're reminiscing."

"Oh, alright," he said with a smile. Magnus was pretty sure he was getting further gone by the second—especially since the alcohol that had been in his margarita had been incredibly strong.

"Well," Alec continued as Magnus gently dusted the soft brush across his cheekbones, "I was fifteen, and so was Jace, so Izzy was—what—fourteen? I dunno. Was Jace fourteen? Oh, I can't remember. Anyway, we all got bored, so we decided to go exploring, and we found the kitchen."

"Close your eyes," Magnus instructed, pulling out a mascara wand. Alec complied easily.

"Well, anyway, in the kitchen, there were plates of snacks and a punch bowl and we just figured that the Branwells had just forgotten them. So, being young, bored, and therefore hungry, we decided to help ourselves." He grinned at the memory.

"Goodness, Alexander, what did the little treats happen to be?" Magnus inquired, blending the eye shadows in just the right way to recreate the smoky silver on Alec's eyelids.

"Well, looking back on it, I think they were Jell-O-shooters," Alec said, and threw his head back to let out another laugh. Magnus had to pull the brush back to avoid smearing eye shadow all over his face. _Maybe I'll have to put a flushing potion into his system before we go out,_ he thought with a twinge of nervousness in his stomach. _I don't know if taking a poor boy who can't handle his alcohol who is_ already _intoxicated to a bar full of Downworlders and leave him to his own devices._

"And I'm pretty sure there was alcohol in the fizzy punch," Alec said as Magnus set down the eyeshadow and picked up the liner. "But anyway, we ate and drank all of it, and I mean, _all_. I kind of don't remember much else, except I was all of a sudden hanging from the chandelier and Jace was laughing, and Izzy had gotten herself coiled up in her whip, and Father was—oh, he was—he was _furious_." He couldn't stop chuckling.

Magnus pulled away with a thoughtful hum. "Well then, I suppose we'll just have to keep a lid on your— _excitement_ ," he teased. Alec laughed again and kicked his feet like a little kid.

"Can I _look_ now, Magnus?" he asked, and without waiting for an answer, he spun back around to face the mirror. He froze and his smile fell, his lips parting slightly. Magnus came up behind him and put both hands on Alec's shoulders lightly.

"How do you like it?" he asked. It had been a long time since Magnus had done another's makeup, and he was eager to hear Alec's thoughts.

"M-Magnus—I…" He couldn't stop staring. Magnus had blended the foundation in to make Alec's face smooth and flawless, with just a dab of highlighter at the height of his cheekbones to add depth to his face. He had on volumizing mascara and the barest daub of liner at the base of his top lashes and on the lower lid. The silver shadow came down and cut across the inside corner of his eyes and faded into a barely-there cattail at the edges. There was a barely darker-than-skin-tone lip liner around the swell of Alec's lips, blending nicely into the matte peachy-tan gloss, making them fuller than before.

His alcohol-induced giddiness forgotten, smothered beneath his sheer shock, Alec turned to Magnus and saw a flicker of hopefulness in his cat eyes.

"So?" he said with a smile. "How did I do?"

Alec turned back to the mirror. He still could barely believe it. "I don't—look like myself," he whispered, raising a hand to touch his face. "I look—good."

Magnus raised his eyebrows. "Again, I would like to state my opinion that you, Alexander, always look good." At Alec's lack of a blush, Magnus was drawn back to the problem at hand. "Oh—stay here."

Alec turned to look at him as Magnus headed for his closet. Swinging open the doors, he waved a hand. One of the walls—a glamour—disappeared and showed a heavy door set back into the wall. Alec made a curious sound and followed Magnus over, stumbling a little in his tipsy state.

Magnus opened the door and reached inside. Almost his entire arm disappeared before he pulled out a deep, heavy drawer. Alec sauntered dizzily up behind Magnus and peeked into it. Several vials were lined up, each one labeled differently, and each one various colors, viscosities, and transparencies. Magnus reached in and confidently picked up one vial with a curling neck and a cork stopper. He uncorked it with a quick flash of magic and handed it to Alec.

Curiously, Alec examined it. It was a heavy silver color and there were wisps of smoke curling from the neck. Magnus put a finger under it and pushed it up toward Alec's face. The label read "System Cleanser".

"What'll it do?" Alec asked warily.

"If you don't drink it, I'll force it down your throat," Magnus warned without answering. Alec eyed it nervously before taking a deep breath and throwing it back. It was sweet like Maryse's chocolate chip cookies, rich like melted butter, thick as hot chocolate and thin as water all at once. Alec gasped as he let the vial fall from his lips and almost fell—his legs suddenly didn't want to work.

Magnus darted forward and caught him easily. "Sorry, Alexander, I forgot to warn you," he said, easily lifting Alec to sit on the edge of his bed. "You'll feel pretty weak for a little bit."

Alec groaned, dizzy as hell, and let himself fall backwards onto the canary yellow bedspread. One arm fell out to his side and the other across his forehead. His body felt like it was melting into the bed. Magnus disappeared and was back with a bottle of water, which he laid against Alec's hand that was resting at his side.

"As soon as you can, squeeze this bottle," Magnus instructed. Alec broke out in an involuntary sweat and shivered, struggling to move his shoulder so his arm would brush the perspiration away from his forehead. Magnus was there for that too, with a dry cloth that he easily dabbed Alec's cheeks with to take the sweat away.

"Wazzgoin' on?" Alec slurred, his tongue feeling a million tons heavier than it did before. He just wanted to sleep.

"It's called a System Cleanser Potion," Magnus said softly. "It's purifying your system; I can't very well take you dancing when you're already intoxicated. You're exhausted now, I know—you should start feeling better soon."

Almost as soon as he said that, Alec's head cleared. Everything was pulled back into focus and he wasn't as heavy. He closed his one fist and then the one that was around the bottle. The plastic crunched in his hand. Magnus smiled.

"There you are, now you just need to sit up and drink that," Magnus said. Alec was able to push himself up, still slightly dizzy, and uncapped the bottle with a quick twist. Taking a deep breath, he put it to his lips and drained the entire bottle in a few heavy gulps.

"How do you feel?" Magnus inquired, cat eyes searching his face.

"Dehydrated, but sober," Alec replied softly, feeling himself blush. Then another thought occurred to him. With a stifled gasp, he jumped up and darted to the mirror. Magnus rose as well. Alec turned red as a cherry as he realized that yes, Magnus had put makeup on his face.

" _Magnus!"_ he said so loudly that Chairman ran from the room. "You—You—I—I can't—look at my _face!_ "

"To be fair," Magnus said, both hands on his angular hips, "you sat still."

"I was _drunk!_ " Alec shouted. "You took _advantage of me!_ "

"If I had taken advantage of you, I would have ravished your unconscious, naked body," Magnus stated flatly.

"I can't go out like _this!_ "

"I liked you better drunk," Magnus sighed, rolling his eyes. "You look good, you even said so yourself."

Alec raised the hem of his sweater and began rubbing his face hard. When he dropped it and looked back in the mirror, the makeup was flawless as ever. "You—You magicked it," Alec accused, spinning to look at Magnus, still bright red and eyes wide.

"It's a little thing called primer, Alexander, and why are you so panicked?" Magnus replied, raising one penciled eyebrow. "If I may be so bold, you would look out of place without it on in the club," he added absently, approaching Alec and walking in a circle around him. "And can I ask one more little favor?"

"No!" Alec cried, still staring at his reflection in a mixture of horror and muted appreciation for Magnus's skills.

"Goodness, Alexander, one would think I had committed a crime against humanity here today," Magnus replied, looking up at the ceiling. "I was only going to ask if I could lend you something more breathable. You'll suffocate to death wearing that in the club."

"I don't want to go," Alec whispered hoarsely. "What if someone I know sees me like this?"

"Then they'll think you're gorgeous," Magnus said easily. He went back to his open closet and began rifling through it. "Look, it's got the least amount of glitter and no profane sayings, and it's even in your favorite color!"

A silently pouting Alec turned his head toward Magnus. He had produced (on a bedazzled hanger, no less) a black button-up top with the sleeves turned up and a dark gray vest on top. The vest had silver buttons and darker patterns on it.

"Magnus—it won't fit," Alec excused lamely. He crossed his arms and turned away.

"Try it on?" Magnus asked. Alec shot him a look, and stopped. Magnus's eyes were shining hopefully and his face was open and cheerful, but with a tinge of sadness. Alec's heart shuddered.

 _Magnus will be so disappointed if I don't go out with him tonight,_ he realized with a pang of guilt _. He spent all this time doing my makeup—he made us dinner—he even cared enough to make sure I was sober before we left—so I would be able to be on my toes tonight. I ran out on him last time and was so rude two weeks ago. I can—just for tonight—maybe I can do what he wants me to._

Alec turned his gaze down and sighed softly. "I-I'll try it on," he muttered through his pride.

The happiness that exuded from Magnus burst onto his face in a moment of lack of control, but his emotions were quickly drawn back in and he just smiled brightly. "I'll even leave the room if the thought of changing in front of me is that embarrassing," he offered with a wink, placing the glittery hanger in Alec's hand.

Alec cleared his throat. "N-No, it's okay," he stammered quietly. _I've changed in front of Jace before. I'll just turn my back._ Turning around, away from the mirror— _Angel, it's been years since I've changed in front of a mirror—_ and tossing the hanger onto the bed, he held his breath and pulled his sweater up over his head. A sharp inhale was the only reaction he got from Magnus, and he nervously turned his head. But Magnus had turned so he was at a ninety-degree angle from Alec, one hand covering his mouth, with his phone in the other and his thumb skipping across the screen. His cheeks were such a bright red they put his darkened skin to shame, and from his angle, Alec could see the screen was off.

Suddenly shy, Alec fumbled with the buttons on the vest and swore as his fingers slipped.

"Here," came the murmur, and Magnus's slim hands replaced his shaking ones and easily undid the buttons. Alec turned his head and found his and Magnus's faces closer than they had ever been before. Alec could see each mascaraed eyelash casting thin shadows over his face as he turned his attention down to the shirt. He could see the sharp planes of his cheekbones and the angle of his nose, the swell of his lips and the angle of his chin, pulling back into his chiseled jawline. Alec's heart swelled in a way that it hadn't ever before, not even with Jace.

Magnus, finished with the shirt, turned to Alec and their eyes met. But Alec didn't look away immediately. Alec could see all of the gold of Magnus's cat eyes, the flecks of green at the center, the slitted pupils that would have made others turn their heads away in disgust.

This time, Magnus was the one who lowered his eyes and turned away, with only a soft, "I got the buttons," that drew Alec out of his trance. He picked up the shirt and pulled it on over his shoulders, beginning to attach the top button.

"No—you don't button it all the way up to the neck," Magnus instructed, his fashionista side returning. His hands took over again and starting at the fourth button down, began to quickly do them all. The openness of the shirt exposed Alec's scars and Marks like no battlegear even began to. Once the rest of the buttons had been secured, Magnus took the vest and swung it around behind Alec. The Shadowhunter He could feel his warm exhalation against his neck as Magnus whispered, "Put your arms through."

Shaking, Alec slipped his arms through the holes and shrugged it on. Magnus buttoned the four silver buttons with deft ease and stepped back with an admiring smile on his face. Alec rolled up the sleeves on the shirt and turned to the mirror—and turned an entirely new shade of red.

The shirt was open down to his lower pecs, and exposed half of his _parabatai_ mark as well as several scars and other marks. It stretched nicely over his shoulders and hugged his torso and biceps in all the right places to make them swell quite attractively.

"Magnus—it looks—"

"Hot?" the warlock suggested with a shit-eating grin. "Delicious? Like a lady-killer? Or, well, in our case, a man-killer," he amended with a half-laugh.

"Is this—what you wear to go dancing?" Alec stammered. It looked pretty alright with his battlegear pants and boots.

"Well, usually you wouldn't wear Nephilim battlegear with it," Magnus joked, walking appreciatively behind Alec. The Shadowhunter spun, startled.

"When did _you_ change?" he demanded, his wide eyes scanning the warlock. He now had on a dark blue tank top that was tighter than the button-up by far, with a white jacket on top. The jacket's sleeves only came down to his elbows. His collarbones stood out sharply and he had a silver chain around his neck with a magic symbol on it. His skinny jeans were snow white and his dark socks disappeared into the bottom hem without a trace. He had several rings—some simple bands and some with little stones—with at least one on each finger, and a couple bracelets on his right arm. His hair was combed into his quiff with streaks of red and gold, and glitter brushed into it.

"Oh, I just snapped this up," Magnus replied with a tip of his head. "I would have just snapped that outfit onto you as well but I had the feeling you wouldn't appreciate that." He looked Alec over again. "You look absolutely stunning, Alexander."

"Do I?" he asked softly, almost wanting to believe him, and even allowing himself to smile. Magnus thrust his arms wide in a sweeping motion.

"And look at that! You smile like that and you immediately go from a ten to a fourteen," he said, putting his hands on Alec's shoulders. "Come now, are you ready to go?"

Alec swallowed, unable to contain a tiny laugh. "I suppose I'm as ready as I'll ever be," he said meekly. "To…dancing."

"To _dancing_!" Magnus cried exuberantly, grabbing Alec's wrist and pulling him into a spin again, as he had earlier. Alec laughed, finally letting go of some of his inhibitions, and found himself falling easily into the steps. When Magnus spun him this time, humming an easy jazz tune, Alec was prepared for the dip and let his weight fall.

"Ah, so you trust me now, do you!" Magnus laughed as Alec fell into his arms, one hand lightly on his shoulder and the other lightly on his bicep.

"I wasn't prepared before," Alec said breathlessly, the brightest smile Magnus had ever seen on his perfectly angular face.

"Ah, but shouldn't a Shadowhunter be prepared for everything?" Magnus inquired, cocking one eyebrow.

"Usually," Alec quipped, "but dancing, we aren't instructed in."

"No?" Magnus whispered, bending down so his necklace touched the hollow of Alec's throat. The Shadowhunter froze but didn't tense. Magnus felt one hand clutch his jacket tightly. "Are you instructed in—this?"

And with the gentlest touch Alec had ever felt, Magnus kissed him.

 ***points off camera* THIS ONE IS FOR YOU, FOXES!**

 **Read and Review my lovelies! Reviews make more chapters come fasters!**


	8. Chapter 8 - The Underworld

**Okay so like...** ** _maybe_** **I'm a bad person for leaving off like last time?**

 **BUT TO MAKE UP FOR IT There's a lot of cuteness and protectiveness and JAZZ in this chapter!**

 **And alcohol.**

 **More alcohol.**

 **But anyways! Let's get on with it!**

* * *

And with the gentlest touch Alec had ever felt, Magnus kissed him.

It was like a dozen live wires had lit on Alec's lips. He couldn't find the energy in his paralyzed chest to draw air and instead gripped Magnus tighter. It was like they were two pieces—two utterly broken pieces—that fit their cold, jagged edges together and then melted into one solid piece.

Magnus broke away first, just when Alec's head had begun to spin from lack of oxygen. Still in the dip, Magnus cocked his head and smiled.

"My dear, I do believe you've just invented a new shade of red," he teased lightly. Alec shut his eyes and jumped up, ducking under Magnus's outstretched arm. _He just—he actually kissed me_ kept spinning in Alec's head.

"Wait! Alexander, don't run out again!" Magnus cried, reaching out and grabbing Alec's arm. But the Shadowhunter had had no intentions of running. He wouldn't run this time. So he put his shoulders back and turned back to Magnus. The warlock didn't remove his hand, but his grip slackened.

And Alec smiled. And as he smiled, he took a step closer and stretched up and kissed Magnus back. Magnus was stunned, but didn't fight it and put his hands on Alec's waist, pulling his body in closer. Alec's arms went around Magnus's neck as their lips glided together and their bodies became one. Magnus kept one hand cupped around Alec's hip and took the other to his chin, tipping his head up and deepening it. Alec's hand went and knotted in Magnus's hair and the warlock let out a groan deep in his chest, his nails biting into Alec's hip.

The Shadowhunter shivered as Magnus parted his lips and bit his lower lip suddenly. He gasped against Magnus's mouth and the warlock growled, "Don't pull my hair or I won't be able to control myself."

Alec's insides liquefied. His hands began to shake and he pulled himself tighter against Magnus's lithe, muscled body. But he was the one, yet again, to pull back, his eyes gleaming.

"You have yet to say a word, Alexander," Magnus breathed, moving his mouth against his contoured cheek and back to his ear. Goosebumps rose on Alec's skin as the exhalation of his next words echoed in the hollow of his ear. "Come now, tell me what you think of this unknown or otherwise shifty Downworlder now."

"Magnus," Alec whispered hoarsely, and he wasn't sure what he had planned to say next, but what came out was, "Kiss me again—please." His hands tightened around the collar of Magnus's leather jacket. " _Please_."

Magnus's slim hand came up and cradled Alec's cheek. His eyes were soft and full of an emotion Alec had only seen when his sister looked up at him—raw, unadulterated _love_. Alec wanted to cry, but Magnus stalled that train of thought by leaning in again, stealing kiss after kiss until Alec forgot how long they were standing there, until they were interrupted by Magnus breaking away with a sudden shout and a step backwards.

Alec took two back, heart suddenly throbbing. _Did I hurt him? Did I do something wrong? Oh Angel, please tell me I didn't do something—_

"Chairman!" Magnus growled, spinning in an awkward circle. The kitten was latched onto the back of Magnus's white denim jeans, his claws digging into Magnus's thigh. In a flash of blue magic, the kitten was levitating and then dropped into Magnus's arms.

Alec couldn't help it. He cracked up laughing.

He laughed so hard his stomach began to cramp and he doubled over, clutching his sides, laughing harder than he had ever laughed in his life. Magnus was staring at him in slight alarm, absently petting Chairman. The kitten gnawed on his finger.

"Alexander?" Magnus asked. "Are—Are you okay?"

In truth, Alec was more okay than he had ever been in his life. He had just had his first kiss—he had found someone who loved him who he could love back—he was finally beginning to feel confident in his own skin—hell, Alec was _ready_ to go dancing!

* * *

They made it to The Underworld around nine o'clock. While Alec still refused to call it a date or even define their relationship— _is it a relationship? Are we a couple now? Is this what couples do?_ —he sat closer than usual to Magnus in the cab and even instructed the cabbie to drop them off a block from the club so they could walk together it the cool evening air.

Magnus, on Alec's left as they walked, was incredibly happy with the way things were progressing. He had been scared when Alec had ducked out of their embrace that he was going to run again. But the _last_ thing he had expected—the _very last thing—_ was Alec kissing him again. Much less, the two of them continuing to kiss for the next four hours.

He was not, however, going to look a gift horse in the mouth, as the saying goes.

They approached the front of the nightclub and found a long line of Downworlders curling from the front of the bar and winding around the corner. Alec frowned, stopping in his tracks.

"Wow, Magnus, we're going to be in line forever," he said nervously. Magnus laughed and strode ahead of Alec.

"Come now, Upworlder, you don't think I planned for this?" he replied coolly, walking on the street side of the velvet rope. "We are plus-ones!" Alec jogged to keep up. Several of the Downworlders in line looked at Magnus with a glance of recognition, and then their gazes fell upon Alec. Upon his Marks. Upon the bow and quiver on his back, and the stele at his hip. And their stare became very cold.

Alec felt himself withdrawing into his shell again. He rushed up to Magnus's side and heard a snarl from a vampire as his shoulder brushed Magnus's.

"This wasn't a good idea," he muttered, his hair falling back in front of his eyes. Another growl of, "What's _that_ doing here?" and Magnus stopped and turned.

"I beg your pardon?" he said, loudly enough that several heads turned and even the bouncer, several feet ahead, straightened. He raised one hand to the walkie talkie clipped to his collar and said something quietly. It was a male vampire that had spoken, and he easily rivaled Magnus in height. His shoulders were wide and his pale skin was stark against his black hair.

"I asked, Bane," he growled, "why you brought a daylight-walker to our club."

"Well, by that accusation," Magnus stated, his eyes flaring dangerously, "I shouldn't be allowed here either—as I am, too, a 'daylight-walker'."

"You know what he means, warlock," a female vampire hissed. "A Shadowhunter. A Nephilim. An _Upworlder_."

"A Nephilim who happens to hold a spot on the Clave." Magnus was startled to hear Alec speak up from behind his shoulder. He turned, and saw him with his chin in the air and his jaw set, his shoulders back and a general air of sudden authority around his six-foot stature.

The vampire's sneer faltered. "On the Clave?"

"And on the Accords Council," Alec replied, striding forward until his was brushing the velvet rope, one hand resting seemingly innocently on the seraph blade at his hip, but his grip was white on the hilt. "And the last time I checked, anything you were plotting to do, say, or orchestrate would be violating said Accords." And with a defiant smirk, Alec added, "And I _believe_ —correct me if I'm wrong"—this was thrown over his shoulder at a stunned, startled Magnus—"I _believe_ that I have every right to be here. Not because I'm a Nephilim, but because I do _not_ see anything that _forbids me_ from entering!"

The vampire closed his mouth and satisfied himself with a hiss. Alec turned his back and Magnus was almost proud. But the vampire moved—it was such a minute movement that he almost didn't catch it. He was crouching. He was going to spring. Right at Alec's turned back.

"Alexander!" Magnus warned, raising one hand, magic at the ready, but a flash of gray was faster. Before Alec could turn, even with his heightened speed, the vampire was frozen in place, the snarl creasing his lips. Only his eyes moved, and they were wide and fearful, oddly humorous combined with his threatening grimace.

"Any guest here is a friend of mine," a powerful voice boomed, "Nephilim or not. You would do _well_ to remember that, Jax."

Recognizing the voice immediately, Magnus turned and let a grin split his lips. "Maddox!" he exclaimed, holding out his arms in greeting. The other warlock approached and gripped Magnus's upper arms in his own hands, smiling just as wide.

"Magnus Bane," he said, leaning in to place a kiss on each one of Magnus's cheeks in greeting. He had a thick accent that Alec couldn't identify—something old and European—and his green eyes were kind. "It has been far too long since you have graced my club with your presence! Pardon me—allow me to take care of this."

He turned, waving his hand. The vampire was released and he staggered backwards, growling and clenching his hands. The warlock named Maddox raised his fine eyebrows.

"Batt," he said, and the bouncer—a werewolf, Alec realized—made an affirmative noise. "Tonight, do not allow Jax or any of his comrades enter into my club. I will not tolerate any fighting, bickering, slurs, or otherwise antagonizing of my guests, Jax. You should know that. Now—leave, or I will have Batt escort you back to the Dumort."

"But—," Jax began, looking outraged. Maddox raised a hand again, smoking gray magic swirling threateningly between his fingers. The vampire hissed and ducked the rope. The female and three other vampires followed, and they stole off into the night with glowering glances back.

"I'm very sorry," Magnus apologized. "We didn't intend to cause trouble, Maddox."

"Ah, it is no problem, my dear friend," the warlock replied, holding out a hand to Alec. "Maddox Pride," he introduced himself, "High Warlock of Phoenix, and sole owner of the Underworld."

Alec eyed him for a moment before shaking hands.

"Alec Lightwood," he replied, appreciating Maddox's strong grip. "Of the New York Institute. Pardon my asking—but if you are the High Warlock of Phoenix—why are you in New York?"

"Ah, vacation," he said airily, waving a hand. "What is ten years when you have been alive for thousands?"

"Thousands?" Alec echoed, a bit of awe in his voice. _I've never met a warlock this old. I've never_ heard _of a warlock this old. I have to talk to him more!_

"We can chat inside," Magnus said, putting his arm through Alec's. The Shadowhunter blushed but didn't pull away. "The night chill is getting to me." He coughed delicately. Maddox laughed and turned, beckoning them to follow. Batt unhooked the rope and nodded jovially to Magnus and Alec as they passed, tailing Maddox.

The club inside was dark, with lots of flashing lights and booming music. Alec's lips parted as he stared around. It was so much _bigger_ than Pandemonium. The building outside had looked the same size if not smaller than Pandemonium—definitely not this much _bigger._ He dimly felt Magnus's arm slide out of his as they wound past a table.

There was a long bar with a blue-skinned faerie working it. He was chatting with another faerie, and every now and then they would laugh. The deejay was a vampire, with a white beanie on his head and a pair of heavy headphones set over his ears. His head was bobbing in time to the music as he fiddled with a soundboard in front of him. A large cluster of disco balls of various sizes was dangling from the ceiling, with lasers and multicolored spotlights bouncing off of them as they spun. The floor was full of bodies—vampires, werewolves, fey, Alec even saw another Shadowhunter but didn't have time to get in a good look to recognize him—writhing and dancing to the beat of the music. He heard a splash, like someone dropping a large pitcher of water, and turned, only to find himself face-to-face with a mermaid hanging half-out of a tank, her long blue-green tail flicking in the water. She was humming to herself and reached out a hand to touch Alec's hair as he went by. He ducked away and hurried to catch up with Magnus.

There were several tables with chairs scattered around, long couches and plush armchairs, some empty, some with alcohol glasses and bottles on them, long abandoned and forgotten. He saw a werewolf pull a giggling vampire girl into a curtained off section in the back, and he tipped his head warily.

"Private rooms," Magnus said, his voice almost lost in the throbbing of the music. "Mainly used by intoxicated persons who wish to do the dirty."

Alec's brow furrowed. "Doesn't that violate some part of the Accords?" he asked, half to himself, wracking his brain, trying to remember.

"Not necessarily." It was Maddox who replied. "Since vampires are infertile, there is no chance of creating a half-breed between them and anyone else, and we don't have to worry about faeries creating offspring with anyone—they're far too haughty to associate sexually with anyone who is not a fey." He smiled. "Correct me if I'm wrong, but did Magnus not bring you out to relax? Forget work, Shadowhunter. This club is for those who are overworked to have a good time."

Alec wasn't sure whether or not to be offended, and merely stared.

"Let me get you two a drink," Maddox continued, gesturing to a small table in an enclosed corner of the bar. With a flick of his fingers, three tall glasses settled into place on the carved mahogany table, with a plate of hors-d'oeuvres beside each glass. The cups filled themselves with a swirling pink and gold liquid, and Magnus eagerly picked one up. Maddox took one as well.

"Ah—your blend?" he asked with a quick sniff.

"So time has not dampened your memory, I see!" Maddox teased lightly. "Yes, my friend, my blend of several kinds of wine and my own elixir. If you ask me, I feel it gives it a bit of…" He brought five fingers to his lips and pulled them back quickly, making a sort of kissing nose. " _Je ne sais quoi_ , if you will."

Magnus put it away eagerly and held out the glass. Maddox laughed and refilled it with the flick of a finger. During this exchange, Alec was able to get a good, studious look at the High Warlock of Phoenix.

He had emerald green eyes and long white hair that was pulled back into a ponytail at the back of his head. He was as tall as Magnus—although Magnus was in platforms so he was probably naturally taller. He had the lithe build that Alec had begun to associate with warlocks, but Maddox was significantly muscular—not 'ripped' in an ugly way, but he had an obvious swell to his shoulders and biceps that Alec rarely saw outside of werewolves and Nephilim. He had on a black suit with an electric blue tie, two rings on his right hand and one on his left, and Alec's heightened senses saw a bulge under his overcoat where there was probably a weapon of some sort stored.

 _But what was his warlock mark?_

Maddox caught him staring. "Can I help you?" he asked, not unkindly. Magnus, who was now staring intently at his glass, attempting to make a fourth cup of the wine appear, heard this and looked up at Maddox, then followed his gaze to Alec. The Shadowhunter was bright red again and his mouth opened but no sound came out.

Maddox's eyes flashed. Then he smiled. "Ah, my mark," he concluded. Magnus smiled, raising a hand to his mouth to hide it as Alec turned a flustered gaze on him. He had forgotten about his signature magic—thought notification, Maddox called it jokingly, but Magnus knew better. He was a master of psychic magic. That was how he knew how to stop confrontations before they began. He could tell when they were stewing.

 _I'll explain to him later,_ Magnus noted in his head. Maddox shrugged off his coat and straightened his shoulders. Alec audibly gasped and took a step backwards, for Maddox Pride, master of psychic magic, High Warlock of Phoenix, had just unfurled two large, leathery, dragon's wings.

"Not subtle, I know," Maddox said with an airy laugh, folding them back in and rubbing one absently. "And although I wish they did, they do not give me the power to fly."

Magnus tipped his head. "Have they grown, Maddox?" he inquired. Of course, it had been two-hundred years since they had last been uncurled in front of Magnus, but he could have sworn they were barely past his shoulders then.

Maddox nodded. "I spoke to the Warlock Elder a while ago to ask," he explained as Alec made a quick, silent circle around the warlock, mouthing to himself as he examined the wings. "He said as my magic power grows, so will my wings."

"Shouldn't your power have topped out by now?" the cat-eyed warlock asked. Alec was back at his side in a flash, looking in the wineglass in confusion. Magnus glanced down and swore. Instead of more wine, his subconscious had willed in hot chocolate (complete with whipped cream).

Maddox laughed and fixed it with a hand flick, the movement of which blended into him replacing his suit jacket. "Well now," he said, purposely evading Magnus's question, "I'll leave you two to enjoy your night." He bowed slightly at the waist, one arm crossed at his abdomen. "If you require more wine, Magnus dear, I'll hear you," he added with a wink.

Not one to be outdone, Magnus let go of the glass, letting it levitate, and bowed extravagantly, one arm going across his abdomen like Maddox, the other held forward in a twisting motion, one foot behind the other. It was a gaudy cross between a pirouette and a bow. "Of course, O Great and Powerful Phoenix," he teased, using their old nickname.

The green-eyed man chuckled. "I lied, my dear Magnus, I think that's enough wine for you," he teased, and with a final civil wave to Alec, he turned and disappeared through a back door. Magnus straightened, laughing to himself as the cup landed back in his palm. He turned to Alec and found him spinning the liquid in the wineglass around.

"Take a drink, my dear," he said. "It's a wonderful blend. Fruity and spicy, with just a kick of a nutty aftertaste."

Alec raised his eyebrows. "That sounds a bit like a peanut butter sandwich."

"I don't know what kind of spicy PBJs you're eating," Magnus commented, "but I do believe I would like to try one."

The Shadowhunter cast him a withering look but smiled anyway. He picked up the glass and drank it, slowly at first, and then closed his eyes and inhaled the rest. He had barely put it down again before it refilled.

Magnus frowned down at his own wineglass, once again empty. _I want more_ , he thought fiercely, willing it to fill. It did fill, but with water.

"Ah, damn you!" he shouted to no one in particular, making Alec jump and almost spill the second cup brought to his lips. "I'm not an alcoholic! I can handle my wine!"

The water remained unchanged.

Alec removed the glass from his lips and watched it refill. "It just keeps coming, doesn't it?" he joked lightly. "I do like it," he conceded to Magnus. The warlock set his own glass down and turned his gaze to the dance floor. His eyes narrowed, he decided he didn't like this music and held out a hand. Sparks appeared at his fingertips, and the rock faded out to be replaced by a jaunty jazz swing.

"There we go!" he exclaimed, grabbing Alec's hand and this time pulling him close. Alec was glad he had just put away the third—or the fourth? Maybe he shouldn't have kept drinking—glass and it had barely started to refill. He hardly had time to set it down before being dragged away with Magnus.

Several Downworlders had stopped, looking up at the deejay, who was just as confused as the rest of them, but then a circle appeared in the middle of the floor and heads turned. Magnus nudged his way to the front to look. An unfortunate, apologizing Alec was dragged along.

Two vampires—the girl in a short dress and the guy in just a button-up and black skinny jeans—were in the middle of a quick, laughing swing dance. As he spun and dipped her, he called, "Come now! Those of us who lived through the twenties—you cannot tell me you do not know how to _swing!_ "

There was a pause before another couple vampires joined them, and even a shy werewolf couple. The Shadowhunter Alec had seen before—not anyone he recognized—was dragged into the middle by an excited vampiress. And before he knew it, Magnus was doing the same.

Alec gasped as Magnus pulled him in close, one arm around his waist, Alec's hand in his other. His free hand landed lightly on Magnus's shoulder. The warlock's eyes gleamed and he was smiling broadly.

"Just like at home," he insisted, and pulled Alec with him through the steps of the Charleston. Alec stumbled a little and tensed.

"Magnus, I don't know what I'm doing!" he gasped as the warlock spun him, stumbling and shy as more and more Downworlders joined in.

"Just mirror me" was the reply, and Alec felt no more confident. But learning to fight with Jace taught him one thing if it taught him anything—think on your toes, and work with each other, not against each other. Copy the other's movements because in a battle, you won't have time to convey a strategy.

So Alec, his gaze going from Magnus to the other couples and back, was soon gliding, stepping, and swinging as easily as the rest.

"A natural," Magnus replied with a wink, making Alec grin, and they gripped hands as they swung away from each other and then back. Magnus pulled him into the step they had done in the apartment, and this, Alec fell into easily. This time, however, when Magnus dropped him into the dip, Alec grabbed Magnus's collar and pulled him down too, kissing him.

The warlock was stunned at the forwardness and the quickness of the kiss, as Alec let him go almost as soon as he had grabbed him, but the Shadowhunter popped back up and they spun again. Alec had a grin on his face and his eyes were sparkling mischievously.

He dropped a wink.

This time, it was Magnus's turn to stumble.

"Careful, warlock!" Alec teased, skipping around him and spinning him so they were face to face. He wasn't sure why he was suddenly so confident, so loose, so free. Maybe it was the alcohol.

Looking back on the events of that day, it was probably the alcohol.

But they were both having the time of their lives, and neither was willing to question it.

Well—not until later, at least.

* * *

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